Atlantis Quadrilogy - Box Set Page 6

  Abruptly, he and his viewpoint shifted back to normal. No longer expanded, he was back in his body. It was clunky, heavy, difficult to operate. Who’d designed humans? They’d done a piss-poor job of making them nimble.

  His console lit up, alarms blaring. The enemy had locked onto him. He was toast. The large craft with the slit in its side was actively targeting him.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Jaxx expanded again, heart pumping.

  Blue IC bolts shot out from the craft. With a single thought, Jaxx dodged the weapons fire as if he was playing dodge ball. Lucky. But would his luck hold out? If he took on the huge craft on his own and aimed for the critical slit, without other starfighters as back up or drawing fire, his chance of survival was nil. He had to stay away from the ship and its turrets as best he could.

  The debris was the solution, his ultimate goal, but why? How would it help him? The debris was inanimate, not controlled by anything but the forces of space. Perhaps if he targeted it, blasted it, he could deflect it into the craft’s damaged side. That would take accuracy even an ace pilot didn’t have. But he was an ace with an ace up his sleeve. He had physics on his side. He knew vectors and angles and trajectories. He knew how to land the eight-ball in the top pocket after bouncing off three cushions and the yellow ball that stood in his way. In his dreams, Jaxx had always been a pool shark. And here he was, a freaking space shark, with a plan to nudge a piece of debris into a slit in a ship.

  He banked right as an enemy starfighter tried to end him. It missed and looped around, heading back in Jaxx’s direction. Hovering by the split ship, Jaxx was making himself an easy target. He would have to change that, but it would have to wait…for a moment.

  Jaxx concentrated on the largest piece of space debris he could see. He was getting closer. His consciousness was expanding. His eyes were no longer in the craft. He was the craft.

  Jaxx’s focus went to the object, while the eye in the back of his head was trained on the enemy starfighter looping around. He could see forwards and backwards. He could move objects with his mind. He was Kaden Jaxx and they’d better not fuck with him any more.

  Jaxx’s awareness grew bigger. He asked the inanimate object to partner with him. He sensed that it agreed.

  He pulled up every emotion he had and pushed it out of him with the ferocity of a charging ox, thrusting all that mind-muscle and energy at the inanimate object. The object complied, and moved slowly in the large craft’s direction. It not only complied, it allowed Jaxx to control it. He pushed harder, causing it to move faster.

  It neared the damaged craft and Jaxx readjusted the object’s direction, aiming it toward the slit. Jaxx had no time to watch the impact. His backward-facing eye alerted him to the fact that he was being targeted by the looping starfighter. For the first time in his life, he was wise to the fact that death for him was not an option. He needed to survive. He needed to come out of this a winner.

  The enemy starfighter came out of its loop. Jaxx spun his starfighter around. He’d executed an impossible maneuver. He had willed himself to twist on a dime, and his starfighter had complied.

  Weapon’s lock beeped on the starfighter heading right for him. Jaxx aimed and shot everything he had.

  “What the...” Jaxx bolted up from the bed, blinking rapidly. He touched his forehead and looked at his fingers. He was sweating, his heart racing.

  “You came out of it, Mr. Jaxx.”

  Jaxx took a few breaths, then eyed Donny. “I know the woman who helped me.”

  Donny frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Jaxx glanced at Slade, who was leaning against the wall, one foot resting on the other. Jaxx’s focus expanded, much like it did when he was in the starfighter. It felt good. It felt powerful. It allowed him to draw the energy of the room to him. He sensed an impulsive thought from Slade. He needs pilots.

  “What is it, Jaxx?” asked Slade.

  “You need her. You’ve been looking for someone like her.”

  Slade stepped forward. “How do you know what I need?”

  “It came to me. You are searching for pilots.”

  For an instant, Slade didn’t know what to say. He gathered himself and stood like the military man he was. “What can you tell me about this woman I’ve allegedly been looking for? Is she in SSP? Is she still enlisted? If so, what’s her name? If not, where is she now?”

  Jaxx wasn’t sure it was a good idea to talk about her. Would Slade hunt her down, bring her here, make her do things against her will? Did he really know what Slade was up to? Shouldn’t he wait until his nephew came through with a report, so he’d know what he was up against? A new thought bubbled to the surface; a tactical thought; a political thought; not the kind of thought Jaxx was at all used to. Not naming her meant the power remained firmly in his court. He lied with a smile on his lips. “She perished.”

  Slade deflated, his shoulders drooping. “I thought you were going to put on a good show for us, Jaxx. Good guess with what I was needing. You almost had me.”

  “So,” said Donny. “Can you hear thoughts now?”

  Jaxx thought for a moment. The power was waning. He wasn’t the size of the room any more. He couldn’t feel Slade’s thoughts. He was Jaxx: archaeologist, Atlantean expert, widely regarded as a flake and a loser. He shrugged.

  “No, he can not,” Slade chimed in.

  Donny nodded, emphatically. “Slade, you may find you are mistaken. Many times after a hypnotherapy session, a patient can come away with extrasensory gifts.” He turned back to Jaxx. “What is it that you’re feeling, Mr. Jaxx?”

  Jaxx looked at the pen in Donny’s ear. The rage he felt towards Slade boiled in his belly. He shifted on the cot, allowing the emotion to travel, in a single bolt, from his belly to his heart. He asked the pen if he could partner with it. The pen agreed.

  Fly from his ear, said Jaxx. It wasn’t a request, it was an order.

  The pen ejected itself from Donny’s ear and zipped across the cell, slamming into the wall, demolishing the plaster, leaving only the tip poking into the room. Donny lifted his hand to his ear and turned to see where the pen had landed.

  Jaxx grinned.

  Donny’s mouth went wide; his eyes like saucers. If he wasn’t careful, his tongue would fall out of his mouth and he’d drool down his shirt. “Telekinesis,” he whispered.

  Slade snorted. “Yeah, right.”

  Donny whipped around and faced Slade, unusually agitated and direct. “How do you explain the pen flying across the room?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t care. But if you think it moved because Jaxx made it move with his mind, then we may be needing a new doctor, Doctor.” Slade lowered his eyes, making sure Donny understood the threat.

  Donny huffed. The guy probably had kids in college or a condo in Florida or some bills snapping at his heels, forcing him to keep his trap well and truly shut. The world doesn’t reward blurty-mouth truth tellers. It rewards yes-men and line-toers and mealy-mouthed worms who don’t say what they should, when they should. Donny knew damned well Jaxx had made the pen embed itself in the wall. He was a coward not to admit it.

  “Well, then nothing more from me today,” Donny mumbled. “If you two will excuse me.” He walked out of the room and disappeared around the corner.

  “Get up, Jaxx. We have work to do.”

  Jaxx slowly got up from the bed and to his feet. “What’s happening to me, Slade? Are you planting these memories in my head? What does the pen have to do with anything?”

  “I’m not your damn psychologist, Jaxx.”

  “What’s the Secret Space Program?”

  “I suggest you keep your mouth shut about that. Not another word. Now, follow me.”

  Jaxx screwed his intention all the way to the core and willed the door to fly off its hinges and slam Slade into the concrete floor. But, nothing. The moment had passed. He was Jaxx again and had to do things the old-fashioned way. He plodded after his newest Master, determined to find out what he need
ed to find out in order to bend the world to his will.

  8

  May 25th, 2018 ~ Underfoot Black, Grenada

  Jaxx was in the RIOUT room, his thoughts everywhere but there. He stood behind Jon Shaugnessy, watching the man do his best to translate glyph after glyph. If Donny was correct about hypnotherapy making one more intuitive, well, it wore off quickly. Jaxx could barely read his own mind right now.

  Jaxx yawned. He should help Shaugnessy out, seeing he was the expert and Shaugnessy wasn’t. Shaugnessy wasn’t asking for any assistance though and Jaxx didn’t know if he should butt in or not. Maybe he wanted to figure it out himself, wanting to learn as much as he could on his own.

  Jaxx glanced around the room. Everyone was working diligently, all eyes on their computers.

  An image materialized on the desk in the middle of the room, catching Jaxx’s attention. Again, he looked around. Nobody else saw it. Or if they had, they hadn’t reacted.

  He walked over, watching the holographic image slowly spin.

  Is this on Callisto?

  Before him stood rows and rows of jet-like craft, though much wider than any jet he’d ever seen. They appeared to be on rock-like ground or very hard soil. The image was black and white, so he couldn’t quite tell.

  He hit the controls on the console and pivoted the image through ninety degrees. A domed structure was set far off in the background, an obelisk stood even farther in the distance behind the dome.

  He wanted to gape at the scene for hours, amazed that such elaborate creations were so near, but so far away. Who could have built these? The symbol said Atlantis, and he trusted his translation, but if it truly was Atlanteans who had colonized Callisto, then how exactly had they made the atmosphere breathable?

  Jaxx had his theories, but they were just that, theories. He had never been able to activate a pyramid to see if his hypothesis was correct: that pyramids were indeed terraforming devices.

  He paced over to Shaugnessy, touching his back, getting his attention.

  Jaxx thumbed over his shoulder. “What’s that?”

  Shaugnessy swiveled in his chair, looking at what Jaxx was pointing at. “Oh, that’s just an image taken several weeks ago from TECS IV.”

  “TECS IV?”

  Shaugnessy went back to studying his screen. “Just a government satellite. That’s what’s been taking the pictures for us and sending them back here.”

  “Do – ”

  “Wait a minute,” Shaugnessy spun around in his seat, eyeing the hologram more intently. “New images pop up on that holoscreen, not old ones.”

  Shaugnessy stood and walked over, leaning his elbows on the table, dissecting every facet of the image. “Something in the terrain must have changed for TECS IV to send this picture to us. If everything on the ground had remained the same, the on-board computer would have no reason to record new images. Do you see anything?”

  Jaxx yawned. Hypnotherapy really takes it out of you. “I’ve never seen this image before in my life.”

  “When was this taken?” Shaugnessy pressed some buttons on the desk. May 23rd, 2018 displayed above the picture. “Yeah, this is new. It takes a couple days for TECS IV’s data to reach us.” He rested his chin on his palm, pouring over the photo like a mechanic over an engine. “Oh, this would be easier if...” Shaugnessy pressed a button on the desk and Jaxx jumped back as a keyboard extended from the desk. Shaugnessy nudged Jaxx out of the way and typed on the keyboard.

  Another image sprang up, showing the two images of the same terrain side by side. One dated a few days ago and the other dated weeks back.

  “What are the changes here?” said Shaugnessy, more to himself than to Jaxx.

  Jaxx shrugged, nonchalantly. He wasn’t running on all cylinders. He felt as if he was in two worlds simultaneously. He yawned again, pointing to the image that dated back a few weeks, then snapped to attention. “I think that image has one more starfighter than the new one. There’s a starfighter missing from the newest shot.”

  Shaughnessy smiled. “Yeah, right.” He started counting, then grabbed the edge of the desk to steady himself. “Uh…well…” He ran over to his computer, checking the images there, just in case the holoscreen was malfunctioning. It wasn’t.

  Shaugnessy picked up his phone. “I’m calling Slade.”

  Jaxx grasped Shaugnessy’s forearm. “Are you thinking someone actually flew off with a starfighter?”

  Shaugnessy nodded, then put his finger up. “Slade, Shaugnessy here. We have a problem.” Shaugnessy bobbed his head up and down. “A code four-one-three, and I think it’s the real deal. Someone must have detected the structures on Callisto. And they are already there now. One of the starfighters is missing...yes, gone.”

  Jaxx could hear Slade swearing up a blue streak on the other end of the phone. Slade rang off and Shaugnessy pocketed his phone.

  “Who could already be on Callisto?”

  Shaugnessy thought for a moment, doing his best to figure out a way to answer. “We don’t know, but whoever it is must have discovered the structures before us. And they must be on Callisto right now.”

  “If someone was there, wouldn’t that send a barrage of pictures from TECS IV to this facility?” Jaxx asked.

  Shaugnessy touched the base of his neck. “Why would it do that?”

  Jaxx felt like putting Shaugnessy and the rest of the scientists in a head lock and knocking on their heads. They couldn’t be that dense, but why weren’t they thinking the obvious? “You mentioned that a change would set off pictures from TECS IV.”

  “Yes, and it has.”

  “Well, whoever it is that is already there, must have gotten there via a ship. That ship would have set off TECS IV to take pictures of the ship’s movement, where it landed, and so on and so forth.” He bit his cheek. “Am I thinking too much into this? Would it not detect that type of change?”

  “It’s designed to detect changes and movement and snap a picture of the change and/or movement. I should know. I helped design and build the satellite. But, if a person was walking or running on that moon, that would be too small to detect.”

  God, do I need to spell it out?

  Fortunately, he didn’t. Another scientist was on the same wavelength. “Shaugnessy, how many images were sent today. Just this one?”

  Shaugnessy tapped on his keyboard, looking it up. He squinted. “This is unreal. How did I not see this? It sent twenty-two pictures.”

  Slade slammed through the doors and marched to the hologram. “Show me what you’ve got.”

  Shaugnessy complied. They huddled around the holoscreen, watching images of the starfighter lifting into the air. Each successive picture showed it rising higher and higher off the ground. Shaugnessy tapped on his screen, then went to the hologram, pushing scientists out of the way, waiving his arm over the new image he just transferred from his computer to the holoscreen. “Look at the time. It hovered for eleven minutes. It then left so fast that TECS IV was unable to take another picture.”

  Slade loomed over the image. “That’s not our propulsion technology.”

  “It’s the technology Shaugnessy and I deciphered yesterday,” added Jaxx. “The Atlantean propulsion system.” He stepped forward, shaking his hands in a futile effort to relax. What he was about to say was not going to be popular. “If this is what we think it is, then we’re not dealing with any ships coming from Earth, or ships coming from any other system for that matter. If a ship entered Callisto’s atmosphere and landed there, the satellite would have taken pictures of that ship. Instead, all we have are pictures of a starfighter taking off from Callisto’s surface. Since TECS IV can’t pick up small movement, like people walking from place to place, then I think I know what’s going on.” He paused, surprised to see everyone actually paying attention to him. “I think we’re dealing with people or Beings still living on Callisto.”

  Slade looked down for a second. “Very perceptive, Mr. Jaxx.”

  “Did you know about this?�
� Jaxx asked.

  “It was always a possibility.”

  “Then we can’t go there.”

  Slade crossed his arms and widened his stance. “Why is that?”

  “It’s no longer an archaeological site. It’s someone’s home.”

  “We don’t know who flew that starfighter off that moon,” Slade replied. “Let’s not speculate. We need to find out for a fact who it was.”

  “And when you do, how do we approach them?” Shaugnessy inquired.

  Slade eyes were cold and hard. “Peacefully.”

  9

  May 26th, 2018 ~ Underfoot Black, Grenada

  Again, Jaxx couldn’t sleep. He tossed in his bed only to throw the sheets off and head to the bathroom. He turned on the light, then splashed water on his face.

  This project had been gifted to him by the archaeological gods, but Slade was anything but a gift. More of a demon. Intuition or not, Jaxx could tell Slade was holding back a lot more information than he was giving. Why? Why not tell your Atlantean expert everything you knew about Atlantean artifacts on a far-off moon? Did they think he was a security risk? A liability? Jaxx sagged. That was possible, especially after the stunt he’d pulled with the glossies. Then again, maybe it had nothing to do with him. Maybe holding information close was par for the course with government heads and jerk-ish lower-level government employees.

  He looked in the mirror and froze. Someone was staring back at him. It was his face, his eyes, but not his outfit. He was wearing a military uniform, more like a jumpsuit, with a star insignia on the pocket, the letters SSP just below.

  He splashed his face a second time. It was past midnight, Doctor Donny was nowhere to be seen, and he did not need some auto-suggestion nonsense playing out in the mirror. Those assholes were not going to control him. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed the image of himself away. When he had regulated his breathing and was confident he was fully awake, he opened his eyes and looked back into the mirror.